Just a Good Ole Boy

Disclaimer!

I am not a lawyer. I write these stories for fun. I publish them on a free site because it is not a professional endeavor. It is fiction. It is fantasy. I did not research the divorce laws of the great states of North or South Carolina. I don't care if either state has the legal processes mentioned or if you can sue for alienation of affections...or not. I wrote it, I make the rules, laws, time zones and everything else about the setting. If that bothers you alot, don't read it, or better yet write your own. Where would Lewis Carroll be without a magical looking glass. However, if it only bothers you a LITTLE, read on because I left a way out for you. I never mentioned North or South when I said Carolina. So let's consider it as happening in a fictitious state, Middle Carolina, in a parallel universe's USA on the continent of Middle Earth. That way I can not only invent my own divorce laws, but I can use Hobbits if I choose.

I wrote my main characters in dialect because it felt fun. I intended no offense. I rather like hearing the wonderful local color and the varied accents around the country. I imagined Joe as a slow speaking good ole boy who taught a few slick operators how wise it is to slow down and not to underestimate someone because they do something a little differently.

*****

Hey y'all, my name's Joe. Just Joe, nothin else. Actually my Momma named me Billy Joe and my Daddy's family name was Radon. Yup, just like that there gas what y'all wanna keep out'cher house a fer it kills y'all. But when I was a kid in school, havin a teacher call me Billy Joe Radon when she took he attendance always made me sound like a redneck. Y'all know what I'm talkin bout, Billy Joe Ray Don like I was named for four different guys. Either I had a family proud enough of is men-folk to name me after all them, or my momma was some kinda roun' heeled slut what didn't know who mah daddy really was, so she named me after all of em what could have gotten the job done.

But you'd be wrong. Momma was a good woman. A god fearing woman what worked hard to raise me an my four brothers up with no help from my daddy. No, don't go thinking that he run off with some trailer park honey an left my momma barefoot and broke with five screaming boys. Daddy weren't no fool, he was a pilot, and a damn good one. He was a war hero. A combat fighter. A full bird colonel. Got his wings to fly and his wings to lead, so no bad mouthing my daddy neither. Daddy died in a car accident when the brakes on an ordinance truck failed and crushed his car as he parked at his post. The ordinance didn't blow up, but you know that stuff's mighty heavy, and poor daddy didn't have a chance in the antique Triumph Spitfire he liked to drive to work. Little English roadster, big Mack Truck, heavy load, shitty brake maintenance, and we are living on survivors benefits.

I didn't ditch my given names out of no shame. I did it cause I don't talk so fast, and four names seemed a waste of time. Not t' mention words. Too many wasted words bouncin' roun' out there in the universe. Somebody's liable t' get hurt. So if Bono and all them singing stars can go by one name, and all them soccer stars can get by with one name, then by gum, I can be Joe. Just Joe.

Now when Daddy had his accident I was 14. I had to start thinking like the man of the house, so I got me a part time job picking up round Ben Carter's garage. He didn't pay much, but I did get to help his guys work on cars, and was learnin' a lot. I soon decided I was learnin' more there at the garage than in school. There you go jumpin' to conclusions again, no I didn't drop out. Well I did, but not then, not yet. I knew school was important. But the way I saw it, I'd been speaking English purty near all my life and was gettin' along fine. Maybe the queen of that there England wouldn't like mah accent any, but I 'spect she had no clue how to roast a pig on the grill to a Carolina boys' taste like i cold, so we was even. Live'n let live.

I also was doin' real good with numbers in school. Real good! Now my success with the numbers wuz the first reason I started to question my schoolin'. Ya see, I had this here real purty teacher name of Miz Egge. Y'all should know ya pronounce the "e" on the end, so Egge rhymes with leggy, and I'll be darned if she wasn't the leggiest woman I ever saw. Miz Egge was a young teacher, her first year, an I knew she was closer to my age than she was to most of the other teachers in the school.

Now, now, don'chy'all think like that, I had a crush on Miz Egge, but there weren't nothin' gonna come of it. I knew she could get in big trouble for messin' with a kid, and I didn't want that on my conscience. Get those damned stereo types out'ch' your head. People y'all call Rednecks are good hard workin' folk. The whole red neck label comes cuz we work so hard outside gettin' things done, not sittin' round some desk all day. Not that there's shame at workin' at a desk either, but that don't mean bein a redneck is a crime or somethin' shameful! We don't revel in havin' four first names, our mommas aren't all steppin' out the trailer at night to sample the neighbor men, and our daddies ain't all stoopin the check out girl down to the Piggly Wiggly. Well, maybe some of 'em do them things, but I reckon Yankees do that up north in New York and Westconsin too.

One thing y'all might not know about stereotypes is that they can be used to a person's advantage. Watch it happen sometime. Like when Y'all are sittin there at the beach soaking up some sun, an some feller from the beach rentals drops by and asks if you want to rent his umbrellas. Y'all say, no thanks, we have our own. We just can't get them dug down into this here hard packed Carolina sand. Then, you think " heythe cabana boy is talking real slow." Y'all assume that means he ain't so bright. So y'all say, hey. Your umbrellas stay put real well, how y'all do that. He says no problem, I can set y'all up for five bucks. You pull out a five, he takes out his battery operated drill with the two foot long auger and in thirty seconds has your umbrella set up. You remark at the ingenuity, not knowing we been doin ' this for years as those big ole plastic umbrella screws y'all use up in New Jersey just don't cut it here. So you pull out another fiver, and ask the kid to drill one for your second umbrella, and he does. You thank him, your daughter smiles real cute at him, and he walks back to his little shack smiling 'cause he has ten bucks in his pocket that he doesn't have to declare to his boss 'cause he didn't rent'cha nothin,'and he knows that his odds are good for dancin' the horizontal mambo with yer daughter that night after the young folks social hour at the hotel bar. Meanwhiles, you could have rented two umbrellas, installed as you like 'em, with two comfy lounge chairs to boot for the same ten bucks, and not had t'' carry nothin' from yer car. Yep, I may talk slow, but it jes might be cause I'm a' thinkin 'bout what I got t'say. That's how 'n advantage can hide in a negative stereotype.

I was talkin' 'bout school wasnt I? Miz Egge, right? Well, I get off track too, deal with it. So I took my schoolin' with a grain of salt. I never did the work in Miz Egge's math class, the number just made sense. Ya know how after you learn to add, if someone says what's two plus two you just see the numbers? The answer just pops right up? Well that's how I did math even into high school. I took geometry, and I just saw the right answer. I got a B+ cause I never showed my work. Proofs? What I care about a proof or a theorem when I already know the answer. If I ain't gonna say all four'a my first names I sure as hell aint doin no proof in Geometry.

An'if Miz Egge thought keepin' me after class to admonish me was somethin' I saw as an attitude adjustment, she sure had a warped sense of how to punish a kid. Pacing back 'n forth front of me in those short skirts 'n heels weren't no detention. ' At there was Paradise! And speakin of pairs, if I got her real mad at what she called my lackadaisical ways, she would get her dander up and wind up leaning over in front of me at my desk, her long blonde hair spilling down her shoulders, and her blouse billowing open so I could have a full unfettered look at her luscious tatas. Yup, that's what I call punishment! Beat me baby, it hurts soooooo good.

One day she was givin' me what fer, and asked me what she had to do to get me to reach my potential in math. "Miz Egge, y'all doin fine." I told her. "I get your worry, but I'm doing real good in math cause y'all such a good teacher. I'll make you a deal. If I can prove you do a fine job with my numbers learnin,' you have to promise me you'll go to dinner with me."

One thing we had learned about Miz Egge, was she didn't back off from a challenge. We'd seen her stand up to men teachers who were, lets say, less than professional, and we'd seen her stand up for a buddy of mine whose dad was a little mean to his kids when he'd been drinking. So I knew Miz Egge would do some of whatcha call negotiating with me. Didn't expect her to accept the challenge as it was, but she did. She stopped hasseling me about showing the damned work, just started giving me B- for not showing work instead of B+, and I kept getting every answer right in spite of mediocre grades. Yup, I got me 100% right on every test, But a grade of B-. Then I signed up for her trigonometry class and spent the next year doin it all again. Then I dropped out.

I got the math. I spoke the English. I even learned some Spanish. I learned about that there Marshall Plan and Treaties of Versailles and what feldspar was and how that there prince in Denmark what used a play to reveal his uncle killed his daddy the king because he was boinkin' his momma the queen. Hey, doesnt that sound like one of then soap opr'y stories one of them Yankees would write about trailer parks? Maybe! But it done come from the pen of none other than Billy Shakespeare himself.

I didn't drop out because I didn't want to learn. I dropped out because I was learni ' AND makin' money in the garage. Heck, ole Ben had me doing things like changing out burnt taillights, adjusting and replacing belts, mounting new tires, and even doing brakes. Course he always supervised my work if it were a safety issue, but I did right by him.

I did go back to collect on my deal from Miz Egge. Even though I dropped out before I was done with trigonometry, I figured since I was out of school, so it was worth a shot. Jus for kicks, I signed up for the big test they give the seniors even though I hadn't had but a year and a half of classes. I failed the real test for not showing work. I think that were a conspiracy. But I bought one of them study guides, and showed Miz Egge the sample tests that I had aced.

"You don't get it Joe," she told me. "Math is about process. You have to show your work, or it is like cheating. Besides, I really can't go to dinner with you. Even though you aren't a student any more, you are still under age, and my fiancé wouldn't approve very much."

Well weren't that a kick in the chest. Miz Egge was not only a welsher, she was engaged. Guess my ship had sailed. So I learned cars. Then I learned Diesel engines. I was reading ever thing about mechanics. It was good reading. While I was at the library getting books, I started reading stories too. I found out that there was more to Billy Shakespeare than that Hamlet stuff, and that lots of those writers were pretty good. I read about science. I read about religion. I read history and politics. Wound up dropping out of church and became what ch'y'all call a political independent when it was time to vote too, cause I decided being told what to do, how to vote and what to believe by big systems were as stupid as showing the work in school. Feller ought to be able to decide which crook running for office sees things closest to his way instead of having to vote a party line because the guy got more money from Hollywood or Wall Street than t'other guy. And religion? Feller ought to be free to read the Lord's word and decide for himself what it means himself. I decided I was gonna be free an easy. And I was gonna get mah learnin' in mah way.

By the time I turned 20, my friends were in college. My brothers, helped by what money I made at Ben's had flourished, and two of them were in college too. Momma died that year. She didn't see my two younger brothers graduate, but we knew she was proud of each of us. She told my brothers she was leaving me the house, and then told me I was to take care of the family home, so they would always have someplace to go and even bring their families. I promised her I would. She died telling us how proud she was of all five of her sons, but she was holding my hand.

By the time I was 22 I was Ben's best mechanic. Not band fer a kid who dropped out at 16 without ever showing his work. When a neighbor asked Ben if we could take a look at the engine on an ole cropduster, I figured how tough can it be? I'd worked on tractors and generators and cars and trucks and busses and even a broke down conveyor belt motor down t'the Coop, and fixed em all. So I found an ole manual an fixed it. The engine dummy, not the manual. No big deal, pistons is pistons, ya know? Then I met the pilots' daughter.

We hit it off big, and right away. She loved that I only had one name to say too. She decided to drop her last name too. SueAnn Sally Tyler was quite a mouth full too. So she became just SueAnn. No dipshit, it's one name. Called a contraction, and we love it for names down here. Lets us get more on the name line of a birth certifikit.

SueAnn 'n I were married within a couple'a months. Yup, 'I married the crop-duster's daughter." Sounds like the name of a good book. I loved that woman. I loved the baby we had before our first anniversary. By gum she done threw me three kids, all daughters, in the first two and a half years. I did my best to give them the best, 'n with me workin' so hard, the garage was doing real well. SueAnn 'n I were happier than a couple of calves in a meadow, and spent all our free time kissin' and huggin' and, well you know. But we decided three kids was plenty. After all I was still watchin' over my brothers who were all still in school. Yup, one was in med school, another in law, one ready to graduate and be a baker of some sort, and the youngest a West Point keydet. And I was driving the whole thing workin' on cars. A red necked grease monkey head of the family. Kind'a poetic, y'all. Brung a tear t'mah eye anyways.

When I began fabricating my own parts that turned out better than factory equipment, Ben made me a partner. I was regularly working on oddball requests, and done come up with some new ideas what made old gear work better, on everything from irrigation equipment to things around the house. Ben hired more guys. We made more money. Charlie fucked SueAnn.

Yup, the love of my life became a living stereotype. Red neck trailer park trash girl steps out on husband and three kids for a night of ecstasy with an older wealthier man. Charlie was an engineer down at the base. He was the point man for a big defense contractor what built planes and a variety of other devices ranging from ventilation systems to automated security gates. His job was to supervise the high performance of their high performance products and to train the airmen in the use of everything they provided.

Charlie met SueAnn at the dance club where she and her girls liked to go let their hair down while their men stayed home with the kids. It was a purty common occurrence round these parts, and we think it is kind of civilized to let our girls out for a night of gossip and fun. Course the girls all show us their appreciation when the night is done by comin home and jumpin their guys bones til he's all wore out. The boys all have similar nights when we bowl, fish or just sit down't the local bar where we drink 'n tell lies all night. Nobody gets riled up about it, cause we all have a way of watching out for each other, 'n especially each others partners. It's a win win thing!

Seems I lost this perticular win win thing though. Charlie won. SueAnn won. There's only two wins in a win win situation, 'n I didn't get me one. That purty well made me the loser of a win win situation which is 'bout a big a loser's there is!

Charlie set his sights on SueAnn, and she fell for his lines. By the time he was done flapping his jaw, she'd likely thought he was a god or sumpin.' But like I tole y'all, we watch out fer each other. Her girls circled the wagons, called bullshit on Chariel's spiel, and shooed him away. Seems he kep tryin' to get close 'n wouldn't take no fer an answer, so they called in a couple of local boys to teach him respect. Well he left. But he didn't leave far, he just waited fer her outside the club.

He approached her out in the lot later when she left, then give her a line about how sincerely sorry he was, wantin' to make it up to her. Apparently he made it up right there in the back seat'a her car. Then again at the motel 'cross the street a couple'a times, then in our driveway when he dropped her home. Got me a picture of that one without even goin' outside. He dropped trou right there and she kneeled there and sucked his puny thing dry while I clicked a couple of pictures from the garage window.

The confrontation wasn't purty. I was sitting in the darkened living room when she came inside. I had Kenny Rogers on the stereo singing "you picked a fine time to leave me Lucille." It was on repeat. I wanted the atmosphere to be guilt filled. We argued, she denied nothin.' She was actually proud of what she was doin'. Charlie was a great man, not some hillbilly grease monkey, and he could show her and her girls a fine life.

"With four hungry children and a crop on the field."

Sing it Kenny.

Long story short, she had decided she wanted the bright lights, big city scenario he could deliver within a year when he expected to become a divisional manager in his company. He needed a beautiful wife who could manage his big house in the suburbs and give him a family. He was fine with my girls goin' along so she didn't have to give up her babies. He was datin' a couple women looking for the perfect choice, and she was ready to trade up.

"I've had some bad times and lived through some sad times"

Amazin' how fast everything can fall apart. I had divorce papers served the next day, I was hit with a restraining order keeping me out of my own house, and could only see my little girls weekends. The letter suggested I get me a lawyer. Y'all ever imagine me working through a lawyer!?

"But this time the hurtin' won't heal. You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille."

Ya think if I wrote Kenny he'd tape the song for me singin' SueAnn stead of Lucille. Nah, that'd be wrong. I only wish she'd'a jes left me with my home 'n my three children.

So I moved out. Didn't agree to a meeting about dividing assets when they wanted. I said I didn't plan to take their deals, and planned to read up on how to handle things myself. Did just that. Plus I had Ben fire me. I didn't plan to give her my money too, 'n if I weren't makin' any, I couldn't give her any. If y'all are wonderin' bout my partnership with ole Ben, well there weren't no paper on that. We did it like good Southern Gentlemen by shakin' hands 'n then drink in' a beer together. Luckily, I didn't keep all my savings in the bank, no sir. Kept enough to let me do business, but I tended to keep lots of my savings in a safe spot close at hand. I know I violated the restraining order, but I snuck into the woods back'a my house 'n after some diggin' made' a withdrawal or two from the family bank, a buried strong box back by the creek.

I bought me a camper with my withdrawal. A ten year old Winnebago built to sleep six. I parked it back on a little piece of property my daddy bought hopin' he'd build us a cabin one day. Then I studied law. I didn't go t' school, I read just every bit about family law I could find. Ben brung me some work I could do there during the day, and paid me under the table. I didn't need the money, but he was swamped without me workin' so it was helpin' him out.